


The Thing to Do

by Wolf_of_Lilacs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Apologies, F/F, Female Harry Potter, Female Percy Weasley, First Kiss, Getting Together, Post-War, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25984612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/pseuds/Wolf_of_Lilacs
Summary: "It’s not a bad life. It’s a life."Two years after the war and after breaking up with Ginny, Harry's life is rather boring.And then she goes back to the Weasleys for Sunday dinner.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Percy Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76
Collections: Rule 63 Exchange 2020





	The Thing to Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [effpeeks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/effpeeks/gifts).



Harry catches the Snitch again.

She’s good at it, to the point where it’s almost gotten boring. The crowd roars; it’s always a treat to see The-Girl-Who-Lived turned war hero, turns out.

 _War hero_ , now, not just Chosen One or Girl-Who-Lived, or whatever the Prophet’s flavor of the day was. Harry’s always been fed up with it.

Catching the Snitch may be boring, but the flying most certainly is not. She loves the feel of the wind in her hair, the way her stomach swoops when she dives or loops or feints a bit too enthusiastically and badly scuffs the tail of her broom. 

(Damn.!

“You were brilliant!” Ron and Hermione are the first in line to congratulate her as she’s swept to the showers by the rest of the team. No one mentions her mess-up.

“Thanks.” Harry ducks her head. There isn’t much in the way of fans carrying the team off the field in professional Quidditch, it turns out. The players and fans all seem to feel they’re too dignified or something. Harry doesn’t miss it.

“Mum’s invited you over for dinner tomorrow,” Ron tells her over post-match drinks at the Cauldron. “She says it’s a standing invitation, but you haven't shown up in months.”

Harry takes a sip of her beer, still high enough off the team’s victory that she’s up for this conversation. “Ginny and Luna will be there?”

“Think so.” He frowns sympathetically. "They wouldn't mind you there. They always say so."

"That's nice of them."

Harry and Ginny had gotten together right after Voldemort had fallen and most of the Death Eaters had been rounded up. Harry had been so shocked to have survived that she was ready to live life to the absolute fullest, and why couldn’t that mean finally dating Ginny? Ginny had fancied her for years; it seemed like the thing to do.

It hadn’t worked out. Beyond Quidditch, they didn’t share that many interests, and it wasn’t quite as carefree and easy as Harry had hoped. They’d both tried their best, really. Their best wasn’t quite enough.

Harry looks around at the other tables where her teammates are throwing back drinks and enjoying evenings with their friends and mutters, “I don’t want to impose or make things awkward.”

“Frankly, it’s almost more uncomfortable without you there,” Hermione puts in. “Percy’s been coming around. She’s always liked you, hasn’t she? You could take the focus off her.”

“And Mum’s food is to die for, Harry,” Ron pleads. “Please? I could even convince George to grovel, if that would help get you there.”

“No groveling,” Harry protests. “You remember what happened the last time? With Fred and those magic toadstool things…”

Ron smiles a little dreamily, then sighs. “Hard to forget.”

Harry’s flat is blessedly clean and silent when she arrives home that night, too drunk to do more than open her window for her new tawny owl Gwen and flop onto her bed still fully dressed.

That silence had been welcome just after the war. She and Ron and Hermione had spent so much time in close quarters that they all agreed they needed a little space, for a while. Hermione had gone to find her parents and brought them home; Ron and Harry had taken Auror entrance exams and passed.

But Harry was so tired. She’d fought more than she’d ever wanted to. The Auror department was disappointed when she deferred her enrollment for a year. A year became two. And now she isn’t sure what she wants beyond the next match for the first team that had spoken for her.

It’s not a bad life. It’s a life. And the mere fact of that is more than she'd ever dared expect.

*

“Harry dear! So glad you made it.” Mrs. Weasley hugs Harry as she skulks into the kitchen early the next afternoon.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Harry returns the hug. As long as she’s known the Weasleys, she’s sure she will never tire of these hugs. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about a thing—”

“You can help me shoo the chickens away from the garden, Harry.” George grins, stomping into the kitchen looking rather put-upon. “They like me too much and won't stop following me around.”

“What happened to your father?” Molly stirs the pot on the stove with annoyed motions of her wand.

“Arguing with Percy again. Something about the Ministry's new Expanded Hiring Initiative.”

“They’re even agreeing,” Bill adds as he and Fleur start taking plates to the tables out back. "Hi, Harry. Been too long."

“I’ll help George,” Harry decides.

The chickens don’t like Harry and flee at the first sight of her. To this day, she has no idea what she did to deserve it. “Honestly wanted to see that again,” George says, gazing off dreamily. “So much less work for me, Mum won’t yell at me for scaring them off with a spell… Everybody wins.”

Percy and Mr. Weasley’s argument has calmed down. Harry, much to her disappointment, can’t catch any of their conversation. Little golden-haired Victoire is chasing a garden gnome while Fleur tries to stop her, and it’s impossible to hear anything else.

“Ron and Hermione not here yet?”

“Nah. Said they’d be late.”

Mrs. Weasley comes out with the food floating on a tray in front of her. She directs it all into the center of the long table, where it joins a handful of _hors d’oeuvres_ and drinks that have already been laid out.

“I brought that,” George admits, pointing at a plate of cheese, entirely untouched. “People don’t seem to trust my culinary skills.”

Harry snorts. “And should they?”

He winks. “Not on your life. That cheese will make you speak in bovine for at least five minutes.”

Ginny is in the seat nearest Percy, Luna nowhere in sight. Harry sits as far away as she can. Ginny doesn’t seem unhappy to see her, but Harry’s not up for a chat.

"Where's Luna off to today, Gin?" Harry hears Percy ask.

"Had a thing with her dad."

Percy looks well, Harry decides. She’s smiling around at everyone and taking George’s ribbing—strange now without Fred—entirely in stride. She reminds Harry of the girl from that wonderful summer before her second year, who had specks of ink on her nose and fingers and was always frantically bustling about, if she was ever seen at all. She’d seemed happy then.

“Harry! Glad you could make it.” Mr. Weasley beams at her. Percy follows his gaze and smiles a tad awkwardly. Harry nods back, her glasses slipping down her nose. She readjusts them, feeling her cheeks warm.

The dinner is as delicious as Harry remembers. Ron and Hermione arrive halfway through with numerous apologies and a bottle of wine.

“Oh good,” Mrs. Weasley chirps. “We can celebrate Percy’s good news.”

“Good news at the office?” Ron asks, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve been the junior undersecretary to three consecutive Ministers,” Percy points out. “I’m being promoted.”

"To senior undersecretary?" Hermione asks, eyes widening. "You must be the youngest to ever hold the position."

"That I am."

"And to think, you didn't even have to sell any of us out to get the job," George says, tone light. Percy doesn't rise to the bait, taking a large bite of chicken.

Bill uncorks the wine and passes around glasses. “Well, how about a toast to Percy’s promotion?”

Everyone agrees, clinking their glasses and drinking deep.

Harry and Percy leave together. This isn’t intentional on Harry’s part, —at least she’s moderately sure it isn’t—but the effect is the same either way. They reach the Apparition point by the back door at the same time. Harry doesn’t want to be the first to Disapparate, and Percy seems to feel likewise, if her lingering is any indication.

“How have you been, Harry?” She’s as brisk as she ever was at Hogwarts. It had never been something Harry hated.

“Oh, not too bad. Quidditch is fine. The Auror office is still sending me owls.”

“They could use you, you know,” Percy says mildly.

“Of course they could _use_ me,” Harry sighs. “I don’t want to be used.”

Percy considers for a moment, lip caught between her teeth. “Fair enough. Would you like to go out sometime?”

It takes a supreme effort for Harry to keep the surprise off her face. “I mean, if you—” A date? She can’t agree fast enough. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Wonderful. Tomorrow at the Three Broomsticks work for you?”

Harry nods. Percy, if anything, looks relieved. She Disapparates with a final wave.

It isn’t until after she’s gone to bed that Harry realizes that Percy may not have meant it as a date at all.

*

“I know my sister, Harry,” Ginny tells her when they run into each other at the broom repair shop on Diagon Alley.

“Okay,” Harry says, blinking at her in confusion.

“She asked you out. She’s been planning to do it for weeks, but you kept not showing up for Sunday dinner.”

“But why?” Harry fiddles with the row of torn bristles on her new Firebolt’s tail from the death-defying feint during last week’s match. “Not that I’m not thrilled or anything.”

“Why not?”

“Why are you here anyway?” Harry asks, suddenly suspicious. “Were you waiting for me just to tell me that?”

“What? I can’t come into look at brooms on a Monday morning?”

Talking to Ginny isn’t uncomfortable at all, Harry concludes. Why hadn’t she tried sooner?

*

Harry arrives at the Three Broomsticks at six on the dot. Percy is already there, ensconced at a table in a cozy back corner. She gestures Harry over. “Glad you came.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Percy passes her a butterbeer. “Heard from several sources that you like those,” she says. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

“Er, no. Thank you.”

 _Why me_? Harry wants to ask. She opts to sip her drink instead, listening to the chatter of the evening rush.

Madam Rosmerta comes over to take their food orders, gives them an encouraging wink, and leaves. Harry wishes she’d hung around.

“You, ah, remember that letter I sent you five years ago?” Percy asks, tremulous. By the grimness of her expression, Harry is convinced that this is the real reason she wanted to get drinks here. It’s not a date. Ginny was wrong.

“Kind of hard to forget it,” Harry admits. Support Umbridge, stop spouting nonsense, stop listening to Dumbledore… Coming from Percy, it had been exceptionally painful. She’d always liked Percy, who reminded her of a calmer, more focused, less fun Hermione. She’d always been encouraging, like the older sister Harry hadn’t known she’d wanted. And then that letter…

“I’m sorry. Clearly, I was wrong. I’ve said it before, but never to you.” She’s leaning forward in her chair, her gaze intent on Harry’s. “I’ll understand if you aren’t up for forgiving me.”

“I do forgive you,” Harry blurts, startling herself with her own vehemence. “I’m not very good at holding grudges. You came back when it mattered most.”

Percy relaxes back into her chair, smiling. “Thank you for that. Mum and Ginny and even Ron said you probably would, you know. I needed to hear it from you.”

Their food arrives, and the conversation quiets for a few moments as they eat. Harry wonders if there’s more to say at all. What do they really have in common?

She needn’t have worried. After they’ve finished their meals, Percy asks about Quidditch and how she’s liking it. Harry asks what it’s like working under Kingsley.

“Best boss I’ve had so far,” Percy replies. “Although considering my track record, that may not be saying much.”

Harry laughs.

They prepare to go their separate ways, and Harry still hasn’t asked if this was meant to be a date. So, with a deep breath and a vow to murder Ginny for getting her hopes up, Harry invites Percy out again.

“Yes, of course.” Percy takes her hand then and gives it a squeeze, her ears going a little pink the way Ron’s do.

Oh. Percy wanted it to be a date, too.

“We can make the next one our official first date,” Harry tries, much to her own surprise. Blushing aside, she could still be wrong. She’s never been very good at this sort of thing.

“I’d like that,” Percy says.

“You aren’t worried about the _Prophet_ ’s speculation about my love life or anything, are you? You know how they can get.”

They could get vicious and obnoxious. During the Triwizard, they ran several articles speculating about Harry and Ron's relationship, and whether he was two-timing Harry with Hermione. Harry cringes just thinking about it.

Percy rolls her eyes. “I worked for Barty Crouch. I can take it.” And with that, she leans forward and brushes a kiss against the corner of Harry's mouth.

Harry catches Percy's lips before she can pull back. It's quite tame, as kisses go. It's quick, no more than lightly pressing their lips together, but it leaves Harry breathless all the same. "Looking forward to the next one," she says, and she's not sure if she means the date or the kiss.

Harry goes back to Gwen and her quiet flat, and realizes she’s ready for things to be less quiet again. It’s a heady feeling.

Gwen gives a low hoot as she swoops out the window, and Harry takes it for agreement.


End file.
